Chasing Shadows
by Ridleysoul
Summary: A hunter is hired to take care of Sam and Dean Winchester. But will he go through with the contract? Or more importantly, can he? Please R and R. Also, the story may link in with a few series 3 episodes, so spoilers will be included!
1. Money Over Morals

Money Over Morals

"Mighty fine work you did on that last job!"

I looked the fat excuse of a man who just complimented me in the eyes for a few moments, then after I felt I had unnerved him enough I made my retort:

"Well, that makes it all worth while, coming back to you for a nice big pat on the back. You know, that's the only reason I hunt, to see your ecstatic face, and heartwarming smile."

"Well… I.. Uh.. I was just givin' you a compliment is all." His fat features managed to stammer.

" I don't work for compliments Fenix, I work for currency."

Fenix sighed and shifted his fat ass uncomfortably in his chair. He moved his podgy digits to a draw on his side of the desk he was sitting at. Hesitantly, he withdrew a white envelope from the draw, then pushed it shut again. He dropped it onto the desk top with all the energy of a depressed sloth.

"Twenty grand? In that one envelope?" I asked him, with a twinge of annoyance, and an even subtler trace of threat.

Again, he shifted his weight uncomfortably. This time he followed his movement with dialogue.

"I thought we agreed on ten…" He murmured, his eyes fixed on the desk top.

I slammed one of my fists down onto the desk, startling him and forcing him to look up at me.

"You agreed on ten. I said twenty." I growled.

"Err… Well see… The thing is…"

I noticed he was wearing a tie. Pretty snazzy for the fat fuck I thought. But even better for me. I snatched at the tie and hoisted him up from his chair. He didn't even know what was happening until his face was level with mine.

"The thing is what!?" I snapped at him, my face inches away from his.

"Porter! Christ, you crazy sonofabitch, let me go!"

I threw him down back into his chair. I asked again, nicely this time.

"The thing is what?"

"Porter, I don't have the other ten grand right now." Seeing my fists clench, Fenix began again quickly;

"But I can get it! Plus another thirty, if you'll take another job"

His stupidity never ceased to amaze me.

"Fenix you bloated rat, why would I take another job when you still haven't paid me for the one I've already done?!"

Once again I could feel my rage beginning to build up.

"Because, if you do this one, we're both in the money! I'll be set to pay you up front for every job you do until you die!"

Fenix hastily spoke again;

"Or stop hunting… or whatever…"

I ignored his vain attempts to correct himself.

"Oh yeah? Really? So what's the job?"

"Ever hear of Sam and Dean Winchester?" Fenix asked.

I thought for a few seconds. Sam and Dean…. Winchester? Then it clicked. The Winchester brothers. Dean and his freak psychic brother Sam. Id heard rumours amongst the other hunter rabble. Things about the Winchesters being responsible for killing hundreds of demons, and helping to release just as many from hell. Mind you, rumors being what they were, I never really paid any attention to them. After all, according to rumour the bar maid at the Last Round was twenty four. I laughed at **that **little untruth. My seemingly random laugh seemed to unnerve Fenix.

"So… you heard of them or not?"

"Sure I've heard a few things. What about them?"

"Well I received a commission from somebody. Wants those boys dead."

"And."

"And? Well you're the best hunter I've ever seen. You can hunt vampires, demons all kindsa shit other hunters haven't even seen before. Hunting down two college kids on the run is easy money for you!"

Yeah, and for you, you fat bastard, I thought.

"I hunt supernaturals you blimp. Not humans. And definitely not other hunters."

"These guys aint hunters! They opened a gate to hell for christs sake! Not to mention they got a guy banged up in prison. Besides, the younger one is supposed to be half demon or somthin', only a matter of time before he starts killin' like a full blooded one!."

"Not my problem, I want my other ten grand. Now."

"I told you I aint got it. Listen; if you do this job, Ill split the fee fifty fifty with you. Im getting paid two hundered thousand here! That's one hundred for you."

"You think I became a hunter because of my shity math? I know what half of two hundered is."

While Fenix was thinking of more ways to persuade me, I began to think myself. One hundred grand was a lot of cash. But I'd heard the Winchesters were a decent family, shifty, but descent. Fuck it.

"Fine. Ill do it."

A huge grin crept across Fenixes bloated features. One that almost made me sick…


	2. My Name is Agent Bullitt

My Name is Agent Bullitt

I never particularly liked driving. It was just another job for me to do. Another thing that got in the way of me earning money. I was grateful for the long distance Id have to drive to get to St. Louis though. It gave me time to ponder what Id do when I got there. I glanced over at the pale yellow envelope Fenix had given me before Id left. It was supposedly the definitive list of everything that was known about the Winchesters. Though I couldn't imagine that bloated carcass Fenix had gathered relevant, or even accurate information regarding the Winchesters whereabouts. Still, it was my only lead. Id decided to look into the older brothers trail first. Dean was both hard and easy to keep track of. There were over fifty warrants on his head, yet each one drew some inconsistency. In a few APB's he was six foot tall, had blonde hair and wore glasses. Yet in others he'd be five foot two, had black hair and smoked. I figured a few of the descriptions had been skewed in return for services rendered. Maybe a cop here got her ass saved from a demon, a detective there owed his families life to the Winchesters over an exorcism. I was never into that whole goody-goody trade. I did jobs for anyone, and anything. So long as I got a pay check that was worth my troubles. Unfortunately, for them at least, demons and the other freaks that your mother always told you don't exist don't exactly understand the concept of cash. All they ever have to offer is immortality, or ten years of good times. If Im already going to hell, then I may as well earn whatever cash I make before I die, rather than selling my soul to some bitch for a shitload of cash I wont get chance to spend. Besides, maybe God will put my charming nature aside due to all of the things I've disposed of. Not for him mind you.

A few hours later, I arrived in St. Louis. It wasn't a bad town, but I was only interested in visiting one place before I drove over to Stanford. The local police department. I pulled open the glove compartment on the other side of the car as I stopped outside the station. So who would I be today? U.S Marshall? Nope… CIA? Nah, too big. Definitely not MI6. Ah.

"Here we go." I said to myself as I pulled out a forged FBI identity card from the compartment. I wasn't exactly in the best state to be impersonating an FBI agent. I had five days worth of stubble on my face and I was wearing a torn old leather jacket. Still, the card was all that really mattered. By the time anyone would think to check id be gone. I opened the door to my car, climbed out and slammed it behind me. It wouldn't be long before Id have to get the thing serviced. I didn't dare touch it myself, I wasn't a mechanic of any description. In fact the only reason I had the damn thing in the first place was because it belonged to a hunter I had to take care of a few years back. Yeah, when I told Fenix I never hunt other hunters, I lied. He deserves nothing less than lies, the rat. It was back when I was a hunter of a different kind. I used to exclusively hunt humans as a killer for hire. Then I got a contract to kill this guy. He was a hunter, and I had the luck of trying to take him out during one of his hunts. I saw things while I was after him. Things that made me decide to take the hunters place after I made sure he was out of the game for good. After I collected on that job I took all his equipment, his journals everything. Including his 1968 black Ford Mustang . It was as good as Steve McQueen made it look on film. Still, it was a pain in the ass to run, and not once had a got the chance to chase someone down in it.

The buildings main doors swung uneasily as I pushed through them. The lobby was the kind of scene you'd expect to see in a small towns police department. One officer at the desk drinking coffee, and ass all else of note. I walked up to the officer sat at the desk and waited for her to look up from her half empty cup of coffee. When she didn't I made a cough.

"Hmm… Oh hello sir. Can I help you with something?"

She asked looking up. She was quite attractive to look at, nice green eyes and long brown hair. But I never played that old seduction card when asking around. Not unless someone wanted me to. And judging by the looks the officer gave me, she didn't want me to. Somewhat deflated I answered her:

" Yes, Im Agent Bullitt, with the Federal Bureau of Investigation." I said as I flashed my fake ID at her.

"Oh. Err, maybe you should see the Captain?"

"No, no, Im sure you can help me." I tried not to grin at my own innuendo and continued before she got a chance to slap me.

"I just need to see some case notes. Case numbers 5242,5243 and 5244."

"Right… Ill just get them for you now."

She disappeared into the back of the station and left me on my own in the lobby. After a few monotonous moments of standing around she returned with a bundle of paper under her arm.

"Case numbers 5232 to 5244. Here you go detective." She said as she dropped the files onto the desk.

"Agent." I corrected her. glancing down at the files.

"Uh… Sorry… **Agent**." She said, with a hint of venom.

"The suspect in these cases is Dean Winchester, correct?"

"If that's what it says on the files then I guess so, yeah."

"Great. Think you could photocopy these for me?"

"Oh, I don't think so sorry. Ill go and check with the Captain."

"Okay, you do that." I said smiling at her. After she'd wondered off again, I picked up the files, put them under my jacket and set off for Stanford.


	3. Its for the School Paper, Lady

Its for the School Paper, Lady

After I'd driven a suitable distance away from St.Louis, I pulled over and began to read through the case files I'd stolen. They were short on any new information about Dean, but there was something of use to me. One of Deans supposed victims was one Rebecca Stewarts. She was one of only two victims to escape alive, the other one being a wealthy business mans wife. In fact the woman's husband was at first suspected of the crimes, but after Deans supposed 'death', the authorities put the woman's account of her husband beating her down to shock, and pinned the case on Dean. This other victim though, Rebecca, interested me the most. She was around the younger brothers, Sam's, age and was a student at Stanford University. The same university that one Sam Winchester studied at. The fact that Rebecca had contact with Dean likely meant that she was a friend, or other acquaintance of Sam's. All of which made her my only lead that had been in direct contact with the Winchesters. I'd already planned on visiting Stanford anyway, Fenixes information had already told me that was where Sam had studied. Now though, I had an even better reason to pay the university a visit. Besides all of the university chicks of course.

While on the way to Stanford I couldn't help but wonder how Sam had been drawn into following his brother halfway across the country. It didn't make a whole of sense for him to work so hard to get into a legitimate life, and then for him to throw it all away again. Maybe there was something missing. Something I didn't know about. Still, sometimes people just chose this job. I know I never got forced into it. It just made me feel better knowing I was killing things worth my time and effort. Before I used to kill two bit street hoods, or low life politicians. Now though I killed demons and other bastard creatures. It didn't necessarily make me feel all warm inside, knowing that I was killing evil things and indirectly saving people. It just made me feel like I was spending my time on hunting things that were worth my attention. Things that challenged me, not groveled for their lives. Mind you, a few did grovel sometimes. But that just made putting them down all the more sweeter.

A few hours later and I'd arrived in Stanford. Luckily I got there just as the afternoon classes were starting at the university. Flocks of people wandered into and out of the buildings that stood on the university grounds. I pulled up outside of the largest building, the one which I assumed was the administration building. I moved my hand towards the cars glove compartment, but then abruptly decided against using a fake ID. It would make me too conspicuous, and a lot of the students would most likely close up to an authority figure of any sort. Nah, there'd be no need for an ID here. I swung open the car door and sauntered up to the main building. One of the large oak doors was held open by a doorstop. I wandered in through the open door. There were a few students sat down on either side of me in plastic chairs, a few of them were looking at the various pamphlets stapled to the walls behind them, while others chatted with each other. I walked over to the nearest person to me and tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up and smiled at me. She was a typical looking student. Nice enough face but nothing spectacular. I smiled back. It looked like I was going to get the chance to play my seduction card here.

"Hey." I said in the most casual, laidback voice I could muster.

"Can I help you?" She replied in a charming voice, still smiling. The thick, and slightly upper class, British accent she spoke in made her sound even more charming.

"You know where I could find a Rebecca Stewarts?"

"Oh… Rebecca? Last I heard she was in the cafeteria having lunch. Maybe you' like to take me to lunch some time?"

Her question caught me somewhat off guard. I didn't have the time to court the upper crust of British exchange studentry.

"Maybe" I lied in a flat voice.

"Well you never know what your missing until later on right? How about a hug before you go then?"

A hug? Hmm. College chicks were getting so much easier to pull in recent times. Before I could answer she stood up and embraced me, while one of her hands slipped down my back. I didn't try to stop her. She smiled at me as I walked out of the door and headed for the cafeteria. I asked a student walking towards me where the cafeteria was, and he pointed me towards a large red bricked building. I thanked him and walked over.

It wasn't hard to spot Rebecca in the cafeteria. She was the only woman there, apart from one behind the lunch counter. She was sat with her back to the wall, staring vacantly, but contently, at an empty lunch tray. I sat down opposite her, and evidently startled her.

"Ugh. Hi! Sorry for making you jump there!" I told her.

"Its no problem. Err, did you want something?"

"Yes, actually. I wanted to ask you some questions about Sam Winchester."

Her face seemed to stiffen at his name.

"Sam…. What's this about?" She sounded agitated. Id have to do this carefully.

"Oh, Im from the… new school paper. The Bugle?"

She looked at me like I was a streaker of some description.

"You're a student here then right? How come I've never seen you before? And you look a little old to be at a student."

I pretended to look shocked.

"Im 24!" I lied, sounding genuinely surprised. I was really 30, and the fact that I had a near full beard didn't help my case.

"Right. Well… I don't really want to talk to you about Sam."

This wasn't going well.

"Please, its for a… Tribute?" I said in a confused tone. I should have thought this through more.

"God… is Sam… dead?"

I made a quick smug smile. Maybe a tribute wasn't such a bad idea. People love to tell tales about dead men.

"Err, yes. Im afraid so. He passed away last week in a… car accident." I stated, rather solemnly.

"What about Dean?"

I looked her in the eyes, and she realized her mistake quickly. Not quick enough though.

"I thought Dean was already dead. It was all over the news wasn't it? Shot dead by… you? In self defense wasn't it?"

She looked worriedly around.

"Yeah, but I meant… what about his body? Is it going to be buried in a plot next to Sams?'

It was a shoddy lie.

"Course you did. Now. Want to tell me where Sam was the last time he spoke to you, or shall I get the cops down in St. Louis to exhume Dearest Dean."

She sighed and clenched her fists, then unclenched them.

"He doesn't speak to me much anymore. Not after St.Louis. Now I know why anyway. He'd kill me for telling you this, but if the cops exhume that corpse now…" She trailed off.

"Where was he when he last spoke to you?"

"He said he was on his way to Nebraska, and that I should stay safe. He said there was something very bad going on."

"I see. Well thanks for your time."

I stood up and began to walk towards the exit.

"Wait!" She shouted at me.

I turned around to face her.

"Who are you?"

I smiled and gave her my answer:

"Im Peter Parker."

And with that, but for the grace of God went I.

Back at the car I put my hand into my back pocket to grab my keys. After a few moments of fumbling, I realized they weren't there… I was sure Id put them there when I got out of the car. Then I remembered the British woman's hug.

"Fuck." I said aloud.

A student wearing a pair of glasses glanced at me and then continued to walk on. But then, a flurry of movement to my left caught my eye. It was a group of uniformed men, and standing at the front of them was Rebecca. I looked over just in time to see her point at me, and also to see the uniforms begin to march towards me.

"Fuck!" I shouted out.

I elbowed the window of my car and groped for the handle on the inside. I found it and pulled it simultaneously. I fumbled around under the steering wheel and pulled off the piece of plastic that covered the cars wiring. I risked a glance up and saw the group were getting closer, and had begun to run. I caught hold of two pieces of wiring and sparked them together. One… Two…

"Bingo!"

The engine rumbled to life, and without bothering to sit up, I revved the car and sped off. After a few seconds a sat bolt upright and glanced at my mirror just in time to see my pursuers reach the roadside. Then I looked mournfully at my shattered window.

"Im going to get that bitch…"


	4. The Fourth Wall Gets Torn Down

The Fourth Wall Gets Torn Down

Hey there readers. After I finished chapter 3 tonight, I still felt like writing, but didn't think I could manage chapter 4. So I decided to add this little out of character/ fourth wall breaking chapter. I decided to do it with just the characters I've introduced so far, so there aren't any spoilers for future chapters. So here you go, I hope you enjoy it:

(Sam and Dean are sat at a table eating lunch, when Porter walks in. Sam nods at Dean to look behind him at Porter)

Dean: Hey.

Porter: Hey, mind if I join you?

(Dean shakes his head and motions for Porter to sit down)

Porter: Thanks.

(Sam coughs loudly)

Porter: What's the matter Sammy, got a cold or something?

(Sam stares at Porter for a few seconds and then speaks)

Sam: No, it's just… Well you're a villain right? Shouldn't you be sitting over there? 

(Sam points over to a table where Yellow Eyes, Gordon and… The Joker? Are sitting. Yellow Eyes motions for Porter to come over in a… uhh creepy way)

Porter: Hell no, Im an anti-hero Sammy, not a villain.

(Sams expression turns into one of anger)

Sam: Stop calling me Sammy!

(Porter stares at Sam)

Porter: Gee, sorry…

(Dean laughs)

Dean: Yeah he gets kinda cranky about that, don't ya Sammy?

(Sam smiles sarcastically at Dean)

Porter: So you guys actually going to do anything in this thing except for plunder the crews food?

(Dean mumbles something with a mouth full of sandwiches)

Porter: Sorry?

Sam: Yeah, actually, we're set to be in the next chapter or so.

Porter: Well thank Jesus. Im getting tired of doing everything myself. Not to mention I had to trash my own damn car! Jeez, you'd think the guy who's writing this crap could write in stunt cars or something.

(Dean shrugs)

Dean: (Unintelligible) 

(Porter shakes his head)

Porter: What? Anyway, I got my keys stolen by some chick too. She was kinda hot actually. Had this posh British accent.

(Dean starts choking and coughs up his sandwiches)

Dean: Cough British accent?!

Sam: Hot?!

(Dean looks over at Sam)

Dean: Oh yeah, you have that thing for her don't you? I would have preferred you to tell me you were dreaming about Brad Pitt…

Sam: Well I've got good taste in women, unlike you. Oh and I don't let chicks intimidate me into writing advice columns either!

Dean: Oh yeah, werewolf chicks and mercenaries. Great taste Sammy… And that advice is voluntary!

(The room goes silent as Sam and Dean stare angrily at each other)

Porter:… Guess I better get back to the set… Err… See you guys later?

(Sam and Dean both grunt)

The End.

If anybody liked this, Ill be happy to write some more in later on. It was pretty easy to do, and fun too!


	5. Broken Glass and Broken Bones

Broken Glass and Broken Bones

The trip to Nebraska dragged on for what seemed like years. The breeze coming in from the shattered window next to me numbed my face, but I couldn't stop now. If I stopped, then by the time I reached Nebraska the Winchesters would be long gone, and the loss of my keys would all of been for nothing. A few miles outside of Nebraska my mobile began to ring. I fumbled around in my pockets for a few moments, simultaneously keeping my eyes on the road and took my phone out. I glanced at the caller display; Unknown. I flipped the phone open and put it to my ear. I waited for the voice on the other end.

"Porter? This you?"

Fenix? How the fuck had he got my number!?

"No, it's your worst fucking nightmare. What do you want Fenix, and where did you get my mobile number from?"

"A friend. Now listen…"

I cut him off before he could continue.

"I don't have any friends Fenix, and you fucking listen! If you ever call me on this number again Im going to dump your body in a fucking swamp! You hear me you fat bastard?"

Silence.

"Christ Porter. I was only calling you to see how the hunt was going."

"Not well. You happy? I got my keys stolen by some British bitch, and I had to smash my window. Now if you don't hang up the next thing that's going to get smashed is your face, you rat."

I wasn't in the mood for holding off on the insults. Disappointingly, Fenix seemed to ignore my threat.

"A British woman huh? She have black hair?"

"I don't fucking remember. Besides, why is her hair colour fucking important?"

Again Fenix ignored my criticism, making me feel even more pissed off.

"I think I might know who stole your keys. Jesus. Even though I told that bitch to stay away from you…"

"What? You spoke with her!?"

Again, silence.

"Fenix!? Answer me!"

"I… I hired another person to track the Winchesters down. You know, just incase you lost the trail or something…"

My jaw literally dropped.

"You hired her? How much are you paying her Fenix? An extra grand for a blowjob?"

"No it aint like that. She… can be intimidating. Besides I owed her a favour."

"You think she was intimidating? Wait till I get back to you, you fat piece of shit! Then we'll see who's intimidating!"

"Hey! I didn't hire her to kill the guys! She just turned up and wanted me to give her some info on where she could find a special item she needs. So I did. I said the Winchesters had it, two birds with one stone right? She's happy, and she can help you out too!"

"She stole my fucking keys! That's help?"

"Maybe she didn't know it was you…"

"Sure. Or maybe she just wanted to find the Winchesters quicker, and so she leeched off of me! Your unbelievable Fenix."

"I… Sorry. It was a bad move."

"Fucking A it was a bad move. You know what? Shove your contract up your fat ass!"

"Wait no! Listen, Ill tell you who she is, Ill increase your cut! 70-30 split to you!"

I sat silently for a few moments looking blankly ahead at the moving road. Why not entertain this fat fuck a little longer? Besides, I was in Nebraska now.

"Who is she Fenix?"

I could hear him let out a sigh, possibly of relief.

"Her name is Bela Talbot. At least that's the name she gives to me. She's like you. You know, not a hunter a…"

I cut him off again.

"Choose your words carefully."

"A… Mercenary. She finds things for people, sells them on for high prices. And I aint talkin about collectors plates and grandfather clocks. I mean charms and crap. Most of the time she steals the stuff…"

"No shit."

Fenix grunted.

"Anyway. There. Kill her if you want, I don't want nothing to do with her anymore."

"What did you tell her the Winchesters had?"

"Some kind of charm. A rabbits foot or some shit. Listen, I don't even know if they have one for definite, I just wanted her off my ba…

I shut the phone and threw it onto the passenger seat.

I walked over to my first port of call, the Omaha police department. After asking around under the alias of Detective Mathews I found out that Nebraska, and specifically Omaha had been far from normal during the past few weeks. A number of bizarre deaths had occurred along with the noticeable moral decay of a number of prominent figures. Things however, were seemingly getting back to normal. Which meant that the brothers were likely gone. Still I thought I may as well check out a few of the most prominent areas that had featured in the odd occurrences of the past few weeks. One such place was a small farm on the outskirts of town where a family were found dead, apparently of starvation. Odd considering the house was fully stocked with food. As I arrived at the house I jabbed a clip into my pistol. It was a cheap piece of crap, but all of my better equipment was in the trunk, and besides Id only be checking the place out, I thought. Big mistake. I wandered over to the main door and was surprised to find it unlocked. I eased the door open and crept in, my Glock held aloft in front of me. I passed from room to room, and after finding nothing of note, moved my search upstairs. Again, nothing. Until I got into the bathroom that was. The place was in a prety shabby state, but that wasn't what interested me. I bent over and dipped my hand into the bathtub. It was full to the brim with water, and a rosary bobbed about the surface.

"Now we're talking…"

"Or not."

Before I could spin round something had collided with my head and I was out cold…

When I woke up the first thing I saw was a brick wall, poorly covered with strips of yellowing wallpaper. I released I was back downstairs in the farmhouse. But when I tried to move, I found out my hands where tied together. I also noticed that I was seated in a chair. A metal chair.

A voice at my back interrupted my analysis.

"Comfy enough for you?"

It was a woman, though not with a British accent, as I had somewhat hoped. I decided to play along.

"Could you spare me a few pillows? My ass is numb."

A raspy laugh. One that barley passed as being human.

"Oh sweetheart. Sorry, Im all out."

The voice was no longer at my back. It was right in front of me, along with its source. She wore a dark brown leather jacket and black pants. Long blonde hair hung over her eyes.

"Jeez, why does every chick I meet turn out to be a bitch?" I shouted out.

Again the woman let out a raspy laugh.

"Oh please, Im not like any chick you've ever met."

In a burst of movement that my eyes couldn't keep up with she had moved her face so it was mere inches away from mine. She brushed her hair away from her eyes, and then I saw that they were pure black. Tearing my eyes away from her face I noticed something else. A sledgehammer resting in the corner of the room. Fighting back my growing apprehension I talked back to her.

"I wouldn't bet on it. I think I just might have met a few of your brothers and sisters here and there." I said grinning.

"Hmm, a little fight in you eh? This is going to be fun!"

She walked over to the sledgehammer, picked it up and darted back to me. Only now did I realize I wasn't wearing anything on my feet…

"So whys a small time hunter like you looking for the Winchesters?"

"Im a fan."

She grinned at me.

"You sure you want to go down this route? Tell me why your after them and Ill finish you quickly."

"Bullshit."

"You know what? Your right."

She brought the sledgehammer up above her head and brought it down onto my left foot. I couldn't hear the bones crack over my own frenzied screams. Still I wouldn't disappoint her yet.

"You really… know… how to swing. Pick that up in hell did you, fending off your pals?!

She simply smiled and struck at my left foot again. This time the pain was nearly blinding. I chanced a look down, but all I could see was a bloodied lump.

"You ready for your right one now?"

She didn't even wait for me to answer and brought the hammer down onto my right foot. But instead of feeling the pain Id expected, I felt nothing. I opened my eyes and looked at her. She seemed to be looking at something behind me. She looked franticly around then grinned at me. After that she was gone. She dissolved into a smoky substance until nothing remained but the wall behind where she once stood. Then I felt hands grabbing at my wrists, grabbing at the rope that bound them to the chair. A face appeared in front of mine. He was saying something, but I couldn't hear him. Everything was going dark, but I did manage to notice one thing before I blacked out. The last thing I saw, was a swinging brass pendant hanging from the faces neck.


	6. Motel Medicine

Motel Medicine 

I wearily opened my eyes to find myself looking up at a darkened ceiling. I let out a low groan and looked down at my left foot. It was heavily bandaged, but a large red stain had still managed to seep through to the outer layer of the dressing. I tried to move it, but either because it wasn't willing, or simply not capable my foot didn't move an inch. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around. I was apparently lying on a bed. There was an identical one next to me, and in between the two was a small wooden cabinet, on top of which rested a radio alarm clock and a small bottle of pills. In my hazy state I couldn't make out what the label said. I could only see that the bottle was half empty. Id guessed Id been given the other half to ease my pain, or to induce rest. Or both. I suddenly became aware of a low murmur coming from across the room. I swung my right leg over the bed, and carefully eased my left one over. I stood up, making sure to put all my wait onto my right foot, and limped over to the rooms door. I leaned against it, and placed my ear on the door.

"We cant just leave him at a hospital, not after what we found in his car. They'll send him to prision, no questions asked."

"Well what do you want to do? Just carry on playing nurse without knowing who the hell he is? And another damn thing, how did you even know we'd find him at the house? Have you being having those creepo visions again?!"

"Dean..."

"Sam, you've gotta tell me!"

Holy shit. I couldn't decide whether I was the luckiest, or unluckiest person in the world.

"Dean, no! I told you since Yellow Eyes died, they've gone! Now why do you keep asking me?"

"It's just... I want to know if you ever feel... you know... not right."

"Why would I..."

I hobbled back towards the bed and lay myself down. Within seconds I was out.

"Rise and shine... err... who ever the hell you are."

I propped myself up and wiped the sleep from my eyes. A figure walked in through the doorway, and then wandered over the the window of the room. It drew the curtains back, flooding the room with sunlight. I blinked a few dozen times and looked at the figure again. It's features were beginning to appear. It, was a he. He was tallish, maybe 6 foot, had short black hair and wore a dark blue short sleeved shirt, and a black t-shirt. He wore a dark blue pair of jeans, and something hung from his neck. It was a brass pendant, though I couldn't make out its exact shape.

"The names Hudson, Saul Hudson."

He walked closer to the bed I lay on and pulled a wooden chair to the side of me and sat down. He grinned at me.

"Wow, you like kind of short to be Slash don't you think?"

The fact that he knew his rock almost made me regret wanting to kill him. Almost.

"That usually throws off the chicks who want to spend more than one night with me." I answered.

"Really? Well I sure don't want to know what chicks you entertain. Ill go first then shall I? Names Dean."

He extened his hand towards me. I took it and shook.

"Porter." There was no point in hiding my name from him now. He'd already seen my face. Besides, there were a number of Porters in the United States, as there were a number of Deans. Exchanging names was just a non-functional pleasantry.

"That your first name?"

I shook my head.

"Don't have one."

"Right, like Columbo. Mind if I call you Suzy then?"

I smiled. I was beginning to like this guy.

"Call me whatever you want, its your fetish."

"Whoa there pal, Im not into that kinda stuff. You'd better watch your self around my brother though. The things I see on his laptop..."

I laughed.

"So, shall we get down to business then? I suppose you want to know what I was doing at that house, and why I have a car full of guns."

"I was kind of hoping you'd tell me where you got your snazzy windowless door, but that'll do."

I grunted.

"First I got two questions though. Wheres my car, and wheres the can?"

"Ah, a man who has his priorities straight. Your car's out back, and your not going anywhere in it for now." He produced my keys from his pocket and shook them in mid air, to emphasize his point.

"And as for the little girls room, its right out the hall and to your left."

I nodded.

"You going to need some help getting there?" He asked, looking anxiously at my bloodied foot.

I shook my head.

"I prefer to use the john without an audience."

I limped through the door and into the hallway. I limped straight past the toilet and into the main part of the room. It seemed like a small motel affair. Not much decoration, just two sofas and a writing desk. I hobbled over to the desk and glanced at it's top. A few scattered papers, and a book of some kind. Then I spotted what I was really looking for. A set of keys. I carefully picked them up and pocketed them. Now Id need to find the room key. As I turned to examine the rest of the room, I noticed one of the sofas was occupied. Someone was sprawled out on it, sleeping. I figured it was Sam. I made my way over to him and contemplated choking him for a second. I quickly let the idea go as being foolish. If he woke up, or if Dean walked in, Id be no match for them. I instead searched his pockets, finding what I hoped would be there. I set of room keys. I released that all of this had taken a number of minutes, and that Dean must surely be getting ready to look for me. I quickly made my way to the front door and slotted the key in the lock. After fumbling around for a few seconds, the lock clicked and I eased the door open, giving me just enough room to slip outside. Once out into the balmy morning sunlight, I closed the door and locked it. Then, I took the room keys and flung them onto the roof. It wouldn't take long to break the door down, but it would give me more than enough time to get out of the area. Now I just needed to find out which car belonged to the brothers. I limped across the parking lot and looked around. There were five cars parked up, and three of them were family cars. Then there was a blue SUV and a black Chevy Impala. I took a chance and headed for the Impala. I glanced back at the room and could see Dean walking towards the window. He spotted me almost instantly. He ran for the door, but he was too late. I was already at the Impalas. I pushed the key into the door and turned. The lock gave a satisfying click and I swung the door open. Dean was at the window now, apparently shouting something. Judging by the shape of his mouth, it wasn't anything pleasant. Sam had obviously been woken and had stumbled to the window too. He was wiping sleep from his eyes and struggled to see outside. I slung myself into the car, and turned the ignition. Within seconds the engine roared into life, and I began to rev the car. Deans expression was now one of utmost panic. He was actually banging on the window with his fists, while Sam, still half asleep, continued to rub his eyes. I gave the brothers a wave and drove out into the morning sun.


	7. Mercenaries Have Feelings Too

Mercenaries Have Feelings Too

I wound down the window and held my hand outside, letting it drift through the air as I drove, in _**my **_car. Several months had passed since my injury, and in that time I had dumped the Impala in a rural stretch of land outside of Mississippi, and had come back for the Mustang while the brothers were busy out looking for the Impala. The Mustang apparently wasn't good enough for them to be seen driving in, as it was still parked up outside the motel. The window was still broken, and the panel covering the electronics was still missing, so getting her to run again was easy enough. Id started to refer to the Mustang as 'her' after my injury. It only seemed proper, after all we'd been through. I had to spend most of my time in hospital, where I was treated under a fake name and set of insurance details. Even months later, I still walked with a slight limp, one that the doctors said would probably remain forever. Still, I could run when I needed too, and as soon as I was fit again I took up the brothers trail.

It was much easier to track them now. I knew their faces, and most hunters now knew them well enough to track too. I had to buy out a few, as well as pay for their information. Eventually I tracked the brothers down to a small mid-western town. Rumour had it that the Winchesters father had kept a lock up near by, full of exotic items. Most of them were supposedly cursed, thus they were locked away. One such item was rumored to be a rabbits foot. It looked like I was going to track down more than two of my prey in the near future. After driving into the town, and asking around, I soon found out that the Winchesters had last been seen heading inside a near by diner. I headed for the building described to me, being especially careful to obscure my face with a discarded newspaper I found on a park bench. I couldn't let the brothers see me, as they would almost surely recognize me. I pushed open the diners door as slowly as possible, to reduce the ringing sound that would come from the bell perched on top of the door. I made my way over to the counter and sat down. A man in a white apron behind the counter walked over to me.

"What can I get ya?"

"Coffee, black."

The man nodded and walked over to a half empty coffee pot opposite me. I glanced around at the other occupants of the diner. It was empty, but for a few early morning commuters. I could see two men sitting opposite each other at a far table, but from the counter I couldn't make out their features. I absent mindedly watched a waitress as she strode over to the men's table with a tray that had two mugs of something resting on it.

"Here you go."

The man put down a mug of steaming coffee. The steam that rose from the mug warmed my chin. I nodded my thanks and put a few dollar bills onto the counter. I turned back to look at the men's table once again. The waitress had turned now, and was walking back to the counter. As she got closer, I began to recognize her. It was the woman who had stolen my keys back in Stanford, Bela. She seemed to be wearing a wig or something similar. But her face was unmistakably the same one I had seen in Stanford. Albeit here, a hint of roguishness made her seem even more attractive. She hadn't seemed to notice me, and walked outside through the door. I looked, once again over to the men. If they were the Winchesters, they could wait. I took a swig of coffee, then got up and followed Bela out.

"Hey!" I shouted after her. She turned and I saw she had taken her wig off.

"What's a college girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"I could ask you the same thing." She replied with a smile.

"Oh, but I think you already know, _Bela."_

"It wouldn't be to kill those lovely boys, the Winchesters would it _Porter_?"

I smiled slightly at her.

"Lucky guess."

"Well, lucky would be the word." She said, and produced a rabbits foot from her pocket.

"Now if you don't mind, I think we'd better leave before the Winchesters discover their trinket gone, and that you're here."

"Agreed."

I followed Bela as she walked to a nearby black Mercedes. As she climbed in, I got in the other side. I half expected her to push me out, or threaten me, but she merely turned the ignition and set off. I hadn't expected her to allow me to tag along with her.

"Where are we going?" I asked her, still as cool as I sounded outside. Strangely enough all of my desire to kill her had evaporated now I was with her.

"You'll find out when we get there." She said with the slyest of smiles.

After an hour or so we arrived at a motel on the outskirts of town. Bela parked the car, and got out, as did I. She locked the car and headed for one of the rooms. I followed, even now expecting her to tell me I could go no further. Instead she simply held the door to her room open for me. After I entered she closed the door, and threw her keys on a table next to it. I sat down on the double bed in the middle of the room, while Bela disappeared into another room.

"Drink?" She asked casually.

"Sure." I surprised myself at how easy I was around her. Usually Id off insisted on watching her pour the drink. In fact, usually I wouldn't even be in the position I was. She walked back into the room with two glasses and a change in clothing. She'd taken off the waitress uniform and put on a dressing gown, which I assumed was made of silk. All that was missing was the roaring fire. She sat next to me.

"So Porter, what's your story?"

"We got time?"

"Plenty."

A few hours, and glasses of wine later, and I was lying next to her under the sheets of her bed. I couldn't exactly recall how it had happened, it just did. We had so much in common. Both outcasts, only used like tools when necessary. Sure, our stories were different, but not worlds apart. Her father had abused her, and mine had abandoned me. We both lacked any sort of figure to guide us, and so we drifted until we collided with each other. I stroked her hair, and she sighed.

"Porter. I lo…"

"It's Tycho."

She smiled, though in a somewhat confused manner.

"Tycho?" She giggled.

I stopped her giggling by kissing her.

When I woke up the next morning, sunlight already filled the room. I rubbed my eyes wearily, and rolled over. I half expected to roll over onto an empty mattress, and I did. I struggled up onto my feet and noticed Bela had left a note on the coffee table next to the door. I picked it up. As I began to read, I also noticed my clothes that I had left on the floor the previous night were gone.

"Dear… Tycho.

What I was about to say last night, I mean it. I love you, and because of this, its better if we stay apart. Things wouldn't go well, and I wouldn't want you to sacrifice… Anything for me. We need to stay away from each other. I've already seen what people are willing to sacrifice for the ones they love, and I can honestly say its not worth it. Oh, and this time, I left you your keys.

Bela."

I grinned and headed over to the bathroom to find something that would adequately cover me up while I called for a fresh set of clothes.


	8. Crossroad Confessions

Crossroad Confessions

I slipped on the clothes that had been delivered to my room. I didn't purchase anything expensive, just a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Even so, I still used a fraudulent credit card. I wasn't willing to pay for anything. Bela's note and its meaning stuck in my mind. Sacrifice? I also wondered who else she had seen giving themselves up for another person. She surely didn't mean herself, as she'd told me she was ecstatic when her parents died. I needed to find out. The Winchesters however, were the more pressing matter for the moment. The hunt for them had dragged on for over four months now. I was becoming less and less sure of what I'd do when I found the brothers again. Now that I had Bela, I had something else to work at, rather than at earning money. Though for the moment, even she was out of my grasp. I decided that after I had found the Winchesters Id find Bela again, no matter how much Id need to sacrifice. I took a cab to where I had parked the Mustang the previous day, and climbed into her with a renewed sense of purpose, and for the first time ever, hope.

Leads on the Winchesters whereabouts were now scarce. Each avenue of inquiry now always lead to false sightings, or places the brothers had long past visited. After several weeks of conventional searching, I decided to search in different areas. The demon that had tortured me apparently knew about the brothers, so I decided to look for it. Tracking a specific demon is almost impossible without knowing its traits and personality. After only encountering my target once, I didn't know anything about either its traits or personality. Its sadistic joy was common amongst every demon, as was its ability to seemingly disappear. There was one kind of demon however, that could be easily tracked, and indeed spoken too. A crossroads demon, a deal broker. Id need to summon one and ask for answers. I had the feeling though, that a demon wouldn't want to have anything to do with me willfully if I wasn't willing to make some sort of pact. Luckily I had ways to get around will.

I drove out to a rural crossroads near Colorado. When I arrived at the crossroads I started to make my preparations. I took out a piece of white chalk from my trunk and began to draw a circle on a patch of empty ground near the Mustang. After it was fully drawn I added the relevant symbols needed to create a devils trap. When Id finished, I climbed back into the Mustang and parked it over the devils trap, so that the passenger side of the car was directly over the center. With my preparations completed, I made my way over to the center of the crossroads. After a few minuets of digging at the crossroads center, I soon found a small cigarette tin. I opened it up and emptied out its contents back into the hole Id dug. I deposited my own items inside it. Picture of my self from one of my many fake ID's, a small clipping of my hair, and the cats bones I had taken out of the tin. Closing the tin, I placed it into the hole Id dug and began to pat a fresh layer of gravel over it. Striding back towards my car, I began to feel I slight sense of unease in the air. Regardless, I continued walking, and climbed into the Mustang. The sense of unease had now escalated into a feeling of apprehension. Then looking in my mirror, I saw her sitting in the back. She had long brunette hair that clung to her shoulders, and wore a dark red dress that clung to her figure in over a dozen fetching ways. She smiled and nodded at me as I looked at her, still through the mirror's reflection

"Tycho, how very nice to see you. What can a humble person like myself do for you?"

"I want to make a deal."

"You do surprise me. I mean what specifically? Riches? Fame maybe?"

I shook my head.

"I want the Winchesters dead."

"Hmm, don't we all? Afraid I cant do that. Not in the plural sense anyway. I can kill **a **Winchester for you. But one of them is taken."

"How so?"

"Dean's soul is already void. And unless he messes up himself, he's been given a year on us. We aren't the sort of people who break our deals."

She must have noticed the puzzled look on my face.

"You don't know? Deans little brother Sammy died almost a year ago. Dean sold his soul in return for Sams life."

This changed everything.

"So, I cant kill the Winchesters, I can kill a Winchester though. Sam cheated death once, but I can guarantee you he wont be able to do it again."

"How long do I get?"

"For a distinguished hunter like yourself? Hmm, lets say five years."

"Plenty of time for what I need to do."

She smiled gracefully.

"Excellent."

Within seconds she had appeared next to me. Next to me in the passenger seat. She leaned over expecting me to kiss her, but instead I elbowed her in the face.

"Bad move." She said, any hint of kindness, or even humanity now gone from her voice. A moment passed and she wrinkled her brow.

Laughing, I explained to her why I wasn't writhing with pain.

"Devils trap sweetheart."

She looked over at me, the apprehension all in **her **face now.

"What do you want?"

"Answers. Who was the demon that tortured me."

Grinning she replied.

"You mean the one that gave you that wonderful limp?"

I nodded.

"I meant her yes. Domino septum…"

She screamed with pain.

"Wait! I was going to tell you! You need to give a lady more than a second you know. She likes to be called Ruby. Our kind stopped associating with her long ago, when she stopped following our goals. She's a renegade, and we suspect she's helping your pals the Winchesters out."

"Makes sense. I can see why she'd want me out of action. Cresto, allectum…"

She shook violently, making the cars chassis wobble.

"What are you doing?! I told you what you wanted!"

"Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot to say thanks. I never said Id let you go though" Again I continued with the prayer, again making her adversely react. Then, as the ritual reached its climax, she began to laugh.

"Do you know where Bela's vacationing this year?"

I stopped at the mention of Bela.

"What?"

"Oh, such a shame too. You two only just hooked up didn't you? She's going to hell Tycho, very soon actually. We've actually fooled her into thinking she can get out of it! But we always collect on our debts, _always._"

"What…"

"Did she deal for? Why, the death of her sweet parents of course, some ten years ago next month."

I spat at the demon and finished off the ritual, trying my best to ignore her gleeful laughter. After it had left the hosts body, and gone back to the shit hole it belonged in, I started the car up. The host was still alive, barley. She was unconscious, which was best. I'd drop her off at the next gas station I reached. I needed to find the Winchesters, now more than ever. For the first time since I'd know of them though, for a reason different from killing them.


End file.
